


Astray

by corvidae9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, heroic gryffindors, project slytherins, spoiled kittens left out in the rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-11
Updated: 2006-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29460114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9
Summary: Pansy has absolutely nothing left and Gryffindors have the odd habit of wanting to help.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a result of a bunny that bit for several drabble requests as follow:  
> I. Ron, Hermione, Pansy for tunxeh: War is over, Ron and Hermione have taken a flat together, and take Pansy in as she has nothing left and nowhere to go.  
> II. Neville, Pansy for hhbarmaid: Neville and Pansy. And something about ice cream.  
> III. Blaise/Pansy for wildebeth  
> IV. Neville/Pansy (kind of) for: the sake of everyone's sanity in needing an ending.  
> It's not cheating! It's improvising!

"No, Hermione. Just-- no,"

"Ron, I couldn't very well just leave her there."

"She is _not_ a stray cat. You can't just feel sorry for her bony arse and drag her home and give her bath and feed her and--"

"More like a dog. Can I have a collar, too?"

Ron and Hermione turned from their bickering to find Pansy standing in the doorway, wrapped in Hermione's dressing gown, wet hair twisted up in a towel.

"Pansy. Hi - find everything you need?" Hermione smiled too quickly.

"No, but I made do with what I did find," Pansy returned the smile too sharply. "Honestly given the quality of your hair care products, I'm not surprised your hair stays... that way."

Ron immediately pounced. "There's nothing wrong with her hair! And what's it to you anyway?"

"Nothing, really," Pansy said. "Just trying to be helpful, for what it's worth. Don't worry, Weasel--ey. I'll be on my way as soon as I'm dressed." She added, her smile softening a little, "and fed! I was promised curry."

"Pansy. You can't go back to the Ministry lockup. We don't care about your condition, we'll help you get--" Hermione stopped and backtracked at Ron's pointed throat clearing. "Fine. _I'll_ help you get back on your feet. I know people who are lycanthope-friendly employers and--"

"I don't need your charity, Granger," Pansy grumbled, standing straighter.

"Oh, but you took it today, didn't you?" muttered Ron.

"Ron!" Exasperated, Hermione rolled her eyes and tried again. "Pansy, it's not charity, all right? It's help." With a glance at Ron, daring him to say something, she continued, "You can stay in _my_ room and help me out until we can find you a job and a better place to stay."

Pansy wrinkled her brow, almost amused. "You don't stay in the same room?"

Clearly used to this question, Hermione and Ron both said in perfect synchronicity, "No," Hermione adding, "Focus."

Looking away, Pansy contemplated the rather strongly-worded offer. Hermione added shrewdly, "I can get the ingredients for Wolfsbane at cost."

With a huff of laughter, Pansy paused, the corner of her mouth turned up in a wry quirk, somewhat throwing a hand up in surrender. "Fine. _Woof_."

**II.**  
Pansy frowned slightly, still feeling entirely substandard in the slightly too-large jeans and thin, long-sleeve top she had borrowed from _Granger_ of all people. She'd taken her wand to the jeans to make them fit a little better, though being a generic brand, she didn't want to push them far enough to destroy them and be forced to borrow anything else.

If she had ever been sent to the corner store as a child, Pansy would have felt a little like that - a detailed list each for the herbarium, the apothecary and the grocer folded neatly in her pocket around an authorization to draft the necessary funds from Granger's Gringott's account. When she thought about it, Pansy had to admit that had no room to complain; if Granger wanted to coddle her out of Muggleborn Guilt or some such, she should definitely take advantage.

She strolled chin up, not showing any fear of being recognized; after all, she was fairly sure she wouldn't run into any real trouble so long as she stayed in the main Diagon Alley thoroughfare. Thinking that she should probably stay far from the Knockturn corner, it proved easy give that the herbarium (the only potential issue) had thankfully changed owners and moved to a new location.

As Pansy pushed open the herbarium door, not noticing the proprietor's name above it, she found herself relaxing immediately, struck by the combination of the melodic door chimes and the scent of delicate herbs and flowers permeating the obviously temperature-controlled room.

"Can I help you?"

Unguarded for a brief moment, Pansy turned a brilliant grin on the source of the voice as she retrieved the list from her pocket. "Yes, please I need-- Longbottom?"

Neville grinned a little self-consciously as he wiped his hands on his apron. "There's only one left, Miss, but I hear he's rather available." He looked up in time to catch the tail end of the grin, squinting as he took a step closer. "Pansy?"

Oh well, hell. That would explain why Granger got things 'at cost'. Pansy held out the list, straightening up and focusing on letting her bearing cover for her poor clothing. "Yes. Hello. I have a list from Granger."

"Yeah, I-- sort of heard. Come on in," said Neville, holding his hand out for the list, his smile gone more tentative.

" _Sort of_?" Pansy repeated as she handed off the note. "So the heroes have all heard about Granger's latest pet project?"

Neville took it, grateful to have something else to look at as he shook his head. "Ron told me you were staying at the flat for a bit. I didn't think to ask for details. I guess I was a little surprised. Are you--" His brow furrowed as he checked the list again, clearly switching his train of thought, eyes darting up. "I've got all of this in stock. D'you want to come back with me?" Pansy tilted her head at him, confused, and he continued, "The back room. we could, um. Talk while I get these things together."

Huffing a laugh, Pansy rolled her eyes. "Right. OK, yes, I _am_ a werewolf, yes I was staying at the Ministry Lycanthrope Lockup in between moons because I had nowhere else to stay, and yes, I took Granger's offer to stay with her because I was tired of feeling as if I was jailed and when I realized that she wouldn't make me go without the Wolfsbane, I realized too that I was tired of waking up with fresh wounds after the full moons. No, I have no family fortune left, nor friends left that I am willing to impose my _affliction_ upon. Fortunately Granger does not count as such, and so I feel less bad about that. Anything else?"

Looking a little overwhelmed, Neville nodded exaggeratedly and cleared his throat. "Well. I was thinking we'd go back and talk about my impressive Herbological skills and my admiration for anyone that can brew the sort of complex potion that these ingredients will make." With a little smirk, though his eyes were still a little shifty, he added, "and then we could have done all _that_ over ice cream, since I'm due for a lunch break and Fortescue's is just across the way."

"...oh, lord. Gryffindors," muttered Pansy, adding more loudly, "You were going to _buy me ice cream_?"

Neville cocked his head, looking vaguely amused and a little abashed. "Yeah. Still will?"

Pansy paused. It'd been forever since she'd had Fortescue's, and her mouth watered at the idea of the strawberry malted crunch sundae with coconut and chocolate shavings... that _Longbottom_ wanted to buy for _her_ and she had a sudden moment of contrariness, answering with a petulant set to her lower lip born of frustration and shame. "You want to do something nice for me? Take me to Madame Lovelace's and buy me shampoo that won't make my hair look like Granger's. _That_ would be bloody brilliant."

Chuckling now, (that bastard! Why was he laughing?!) Neville pulled the apron off and set it on the counter, walking up to an alarmed Pansy only to pass her and tap the sign in the window to read 'back in an hour'. "Done. Before or after the ice cream?"

 **III.**  
Pansy sat across a small, red, cheerfully round table from Neville Longbottom just outside of Fortescue's, her eyes shut in utter bliss at the mouthful of pure heaven now engaged in sliding down her throat leaving a trail of impossibly sweet, smooth cold in its wake. "Oh. This is... brilliant. It's been..."

"Far too long, Pansy, darling. Enjoying your ice cream?"

Eyes snapping open, posture immediately recovering, Pansy blanched slightly at the sight of Blaise standing tableside, Neville eyeing him curiously, half on alert. Running her tongue along her front teeth first, she finally smiled; small, gracious, polite, trying not to picture him laughing or presenting her with small gifts or hiring Fortescue to cater her birthday and god help her, definitely not naked or kissing her or with his hands in places that made her blush faintly though she definitely wasn't thinking about them. "Yes, actually," she answered casually, setting her spoon down and wiping her hands meticulously on the napkin. "You know Neville Longbottom, I presume. Neville, Blaise?"

The sound of Neville's first name was an odd thing, considering she had to fight just not to sneer 'Longbottom'. Not as hard as she should have, which was a little disconcerting, but she was willing to chalk that up to the lovely pink-striped bag full of _proper_ toiletries currently leaning against her foot. She'd thought he was kidding at first when he offered an elbow and steered her away from Fortescue's, directly to Madam Lovelace's, with the admonition to fill her basket and not argue because it had been her idea to begin with. As if she was going to argue with smoothing conditioner and vanilla scrub.

Neville was now exchanging an awkward nod with Blaise and suddenly looked smaller and younger than he had just a few minutes ago. Indeed, Blaise turned his grin back to her and it carried so much malice, she had to suppress a shudder.

"For a spoiled kitten left out in the rain, you seem to have done... well. Better than expected," drawled Blaise, reaching out to tug at the hem of her sleeve, rolling the worn-soft cotton between his elegantly-manicured fingernails. "You seem to be fitting right in."

Pansy pulled her hand away from Blaise's mock affection, rubbing at the wrist of the sleeve he had touched as if burned, face flamingly red. "It's a shame you have to go, _Blaise_." In a sense, she _had_ been burned - it was hard to see him and not remember a time that he had cared for her; doted upon her... much yes, like a spoiled kitten, and the memory both stung and rankled.

"Clear off, Zabini," said Neville, voice pitched low, eyes narrow as he set his spoon down hard on the saucer under his dish. "You heard her."

Blaise sighed with mock affection, "Mmm. Gryffindors; so... endearingly thick." He smiled the same insincere grin she'd seen him use time and again and took a step back. "Good afternoon, _Pansy_. Longbottom."

Watching him go, Pansy forgot about her ice cream until a ringing sound caught her attention. Neville was tapping the side of her dish with his spoon with a small smile. "Ignore him. That's what we always did."

Pansy murmured as she picked listlessly at her dish, "It's harder than it looks. And just- nevermind. I should go." She made to stand with a grimace. "I've got... _errands_."

Neville caught her arm, in almost the same place Blaise had, though with completely opposite intent. "Starting with my shop, yeah? I'm sorry, but I'm still out to lunch. And if you leave now, I'll have to finish yours, too."

Momentarily cross, Pansy tugged her arm away again regardless of intent. "Enjoy it. I'll start somewhere else." With that, she walked out of the shop, arms crossed tightly in front of her chest reminding herself that Parkinson women were not the type to cry in public. Too many witnesses. To that end, she sucked in a breath and went straight to the Apothecary.

 **IV.**  
With a small bag in her hands from the Apothecary's shop and two larger bags from the grocer's, Pansy finally made her way back to Longbottom's shop, the knot of dread deep in her stomach growing heavier by the step. She paused for a long moment at the door, finally shifting the bags to one hand to push it open. Involuntarily charmed yet again by the combination of the smell, sound and temperature, a tiny smile surfaced and was promptly put away as she caught sight of Neville at the counter.

She cleared her throat and didn't quite look at him as she said, "Do you have my things, please?"

Neville sighed just barely and turned to take yet another bag from the shelves behind the register, speaking as he offered it to her. "Yes, miss. Ready to go. Receipt's in the bag for Hermione."

Pansy took it carefully, already moving away. "Alright. Err... thanks."

"Pansy, wait," Neville called as she turned her back, and Pansy winced. "You forgot this."

Hazarding a look over her shoulder, she saw that Neville was holding up a pink-striped bag and her traitorous stomach flipped happily at seeing her beloved toiletries again. "Oh. Of course." He walked up and handed them to her and she nodded quickly, moving away again and not noticing if it seemed heavier than it had earlier in the day. "Yes. Thank you."

Neville held the door for her as her hands were entirely full and she flashed a small smile for him as she walked out. A very small smile.

When Pansy arrived back at the empty flat, she put the groceries away and left the potions ingredients on Hermione's desk before retreating to her room to gloat over her things. Part of her was ashamed for having taken them from Longbottom; part of her was shocked that she would find herself in a position such that a medium-sized bag of soaps and things might fill her with such glee that sitting in Granger's clothes would matter a little bit less. The largest part, however, was just grateful for some little luxury after all this time. She sat cross-legged on the bed and reached into the bag, pulling her fingers back in surprise when she made contact with something rather cold.

Brow furrowed, she looked into the bag this time before reaching in and pulling out one of Fortescue's Self-Chill to-go containers, cold to the touch, spoon tied to it with a violet ribbon. Swallowing hard, she set it next to her hip and reached into the bag again for the other unfamiliar shape, this time pulling out a box that melted away in her hands to reveal a tiny pot of miniature flowering pansies. There was only a small note that read, "Best wishes on your new home."

Pansy stared at the tiny, perfect blooms, nose wrinkling, biting her lip. Carefully, she set them on the nightstand and ice cream in hand, left the room to find parchment and a quill with which to write a thank you note.


	2. Productive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snippet of Pansy's life, two weeks post-Astray. I basically write this mostly for merrycontrary now. :D

It had been two weeks since she'd moved into Granger's flat and Pansy was straightening her apron and the pins in her hair for the umpteenth time using the papertowel dispenser near the espresso machine as a mirror. Finally satisfied, she pulled the spelled-clean rag from her apron pocket and lifted her chin as she ventured back out onto the floor of the coffee shop. Spotting new customers at the table in the most prominent location on the patio, she finished cleaning the table she was working on and walked up, reminding herself to smile.

"Hello," she said, to her credit for the most part managing not to falter at all through the greeting that she had to remind herself too, was going to pay rent on a place of her own one day soon. "Can I get you something?"

The two young men had the distinct air of slacker on them, and Pansy could swear she could almost recognize the one who opened his mouth and said, "Vietnamese coffee, love. We've got a gig tonight."

Pansy nodded and turned to the other, who was frankly appraising her. "I'll have what he's having. 'Less you want to share some of that," he cocked his head at her arse, "with me."

One very deep breath. Two very deep breaths and then Pansy remembered to smile again. "I'm afraid that my arse is not on the menu, sir. I'll be back shortly with your coffee."

Flushed and trying not to be a bloody wilting flower, she turned away to put in the order to the sound of their low laughter, when a jingling of entry bells across the street made her look up. Longbottom was sweeping the step up to the herbarium. He looked up too and offered a small wave, which to Pansy's surprise, she returned instinctively.

No longer scowling, Pansy took a step back and away and finally went about her business.

Neville watched until she disappeared into the shop, and then resumed his sweeping.


	3. A Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy's part in the Final Battle

He looked at her through his one good eye, good being a relative term given that his glasses had last been seen when Lestrange had smacked them right off of his face. But it was the one that wasn't swollen shut and as such, Potter could use it to peer at Pansy who was holding the dungeon door open.

"It's got to be some kind of trick," he said.

"You don't have a choice, Potter," Pansy scowled, shoving his wand at him, and to her credit only looking over her shoulder once. "Unless you'd like to wait until they bring Greyback in."

He took another wary step, favoring his right leg. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why the hell are you asking questions, moron?" she snapped. "Up the stairs to the right, out the back door and past the wards. You have five minutes until someone comes back on duty, do you understand me?"

"Parkinson--"

"GO, GOD DAMN IT or I will call them myself," Pansy hissed, and Potter would never be able to see that her eyes were wet, and her fists clenched; he'd never know what they'd done to her and her family and her friends, and what she was tired of doing in the futile hope that anything she did would stop it.

Potter took another limping step and another more quickly than the first and Pansy shut her eyes and didn't open them again until she heard the perimeter alarms go off, which meant he was gone. Which meant she had time to do one last thing. Several small, last things, actually.

She strode down the dungeon corridor activating the magical charges one by one, and didn't run into anyone until she made it up into the kitchens. The corners of her mouth turned upward in a smile that was anything but pleasant, and Pansy purred, "Bellatrix. Just the person I wanted to see."

With a flick of her wand, Pansy brought it all down before Bellatrix had even opened her mouth.


	4. A Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy tries to rebuild her social circle.

Finally wearing a top and skirt of her own (though the coat was still on loan), Pansy knocked on the door of the modest home. It was perhaps not modest in terms of the common person, but certainly not a manor, and certainly nowhere he would have lived before... well. Just Before. She rubbed her upper arms more out of anxiety than cold, promising herself that she would only wait another two minutes before using her new wand to Apparate back.

It had been half an eternity and Pansy had been reluctant to come here, even with the trouble it had cost to find him. She could handle scorn from anyone and everyone, and she frequently did, but she'd had to brace herself for this visit. If he--

The door opened slowly inward and Pansy licked her lower lip, heart in her throat as she tried a pained smile. His blond hair was cut a little longer than it had been Before, artfully parted and tossed over his left eye to cover the scars that half shut it and tugged up on the corner of his mouth, and she couldn't quite read his expression. Perhaps this hadn't been the best of ideas; if he cut her down now... she just didn't know.

He stared, fingers tightening on the door and Pansy could only say, "You look well."

"Liar," he said, voice raspier than it had been before, and Pansy's upturned nose twitched as she swallowed hard and made to take a step back.

"I'm--"

Draco let go of the door and took a quick step forward to wrap his arms around her, squeezing her tight as he set his cheek on top of her head. "Don't shed on me," he murmured and she huffed a thick laugh through tears she couldn't stop.

"You don't hate me," she said, clutching at his shirt. "Oh god. I'm so happy to see you."

"No one's happy to see me anymore, Pansy," he grumbled, though he didn't let go. "Then again, I suppose that makes two of us now."

Pansy laughed again, wiping her eyes as she bumped him. "Shut up."

"You know, Zabini actually crosses himself when he sees me."

"Does he really? Arsehole. He went out of his way to turn his nose up at me. As if he and his nouveau riche family name were so high and mighty to begin with."

"No, not really. I don't go places I'd cross paths with the bastard," Draco said with more than a trace of his customary hauteur. Pansy looked up and peered at his scars, and Draco wasted no time placing two fingers on her cheek and nudging her face away, murmuring, "Don't."

Pansy slapped his hand off and pushed his hair back from his face, the thought occurring to her that she had never seen anyone she thought more beautiful. "Will you please offer me tea so that I can come inside and stop being ogled by the neighbors?"

"Even if my doorstep weren't warded ten ways from prying eyes, they'd know you weren't my type," said Draco, almost smiling though still not quite meeting her eyes. "Even without knowing about your unfortunate canine tendencies."

"All the more scandal to be had, darling," Pansy said, narrowing her eyes. "Tea. Or else."


End file.
